Extra Credit
by LR Bowen
Summary: 18-year-old Starfleet Academy Cadet Janeway, lost on a mountain trail, encounters a helpful officer--Jean-Luc Picard. Written long before Jeri Taylor's "Mosaic". This version of the young Janeway is far more sure of herself than the character in that nove


title

Star Trek: Voyager is copyright by Paramount Pictures, Inc. No infringement is intended. Story is copyright by L.R. Bowen, LRBowen@aol.com. Do not sell or print for sale without the express written permission of the author, and do not circulate without the author's name and this disclaimer attached. Permission is granted to circulate free of charge in electronic form. Please do not archive without contacting the author.

This was written in Voyager's first season, a long time before Jeri Taylor's "Mosaic" came out. On the whole, and without prejudice, I prefer to think of the young Janeway as the person in this story and not the character in the published novel. But you may certainly make up your own mind on the matter. This version was slightly expurgated—and I think improved— for Now Voyager.

Extra Credit  
by L.R. Bowen  
1995

  
"I am _not lost,"_ said Kathryn Janeway aloud, although no one was nearby to hear.  
    The tall Douglas firs and the huge, grey-white granite boulders littering the steep Sierra slope did not contradict her.   
    Just to the top of this ridge, she thought confidently. I'll see the lake from there, and it will be down hill all the way back. I was only a little turned around a minute ago.   
    Having lost her tricorder annoyed her, since she had input so many class notes earlier in the day, but she could mostly recreate them from memory. The map and compass functions would have come in handy just now, but were hardly essential. She had not strayed far from the trail to take another look at that little mountain pond, although it had taken her nearly an hour to find it again once she had gone striding down the needle-strewn slope. The recordings she had made there were the worst loss.   
    All these tree- covered ridges looked the same, all topped with glacially polished granite outcrops, all populated with scampering ground squirrels and squawking Steller's jays. The crystalline pond was a miniature of the huge blue expanse she knew would lie in sight once she could survey the area from the height.  
    Lake Tahoe Park was the best destination for the required Field Biology 20 survey trip, so she had been sure to sign up for it early before all the spots were taken. The professors and her classmates were all napping back at the lakeside lodge after lunch, but she had taken her tricorder out again on her own. Cadet Janeway was determined to serve as Science Officer on the best starship posting available as soon as she graduated from the Academy.   
    Three more years...it seemed like a lifetime of study stretched ahead of her before she could spread her wings to the galaxy. The more she learned in each class, the better assignment for which she could qualify. Perhaps she might even be allowed to graduate early. A Science Officer in two years, at the age of twenty? Not unprecedented, but not common either. The sooner the better, however; if she was going to make captain by thirty, every little acceleration along the road would count.   
    She struggled up to the top of the ridge and looked for a treeless spot from which she could see to the east. The early afternoon sun beat down with blinding heat at this two thousand meter altitude, reflecting off the bright stone slabs with dazzling effect. After the cool, dim shade of the mighty trees, her eyes squinted painfully as she tried to spot a glimmer of water in the distance.   
    Where was it, anyway? Lake Tahoe was thirty-five kilometers long and nineteen wide; it wasn't exactly easy to hide even among high ridges and the great granite slopes of the Sierra Nevada. She had headed west from the lodge, up into the fragrant forest along a well-marked trail she had just walked that morning with her entire group. The little pond she had spotted from a ridge was not on any of the branches or loops of the trail, but she had thought it worth investigating even if it took a hike to get there. Academy physical training had left her in superb condition, so the altitude was not too much of a handicap.   
    She took another drink from her canteen and wiped the streaming perspiration from her brow. A few long tendrils of chestnut hair had escaped from her firmly pinned bun and were pasted down and darkened with moisture along her fair- skinned forehead and cheek. Without her sunscreen pills, she would have been lobster pink by now from hiking in the alpine sunshine for hours. The flush on her face was one of exertion.   
    Well, shoot, she thought. The lake was nowhere in sight. It was eastward of her; it had to be. Behind that high ridge to the left? Had she really come that far? She had no way of telling, since her tricorder and pack lay at the bottom of a deep ravine where she had accidentally dropped them. The smooth log bridge had not been intended as a passageway for the casual hiker and the footing had been precarious. She was lucky that she herself was not lying at the bottom of that ravine.   
    Since the day was warm, she had put her jacket in her pack, along with the comm badge pinned to the front. All she had with her was a canteen, a couple of energy bars in her pants pocket, and her own skills and determination.   
    It was still only about three in the afternoon—no, no, she reminded herself: 1500 hours. The sun would not set until nearly 2100 hours in this midsummer season. Her canteen was full of cool lake water and could last her for a day. Plenty of time and resources to get back safely to the lodge.   
    She'd have to face Sarpak, her group's teaching assistant, when she got back, though; they were probably just beginning to wonder where she was. Rats, she was probably going to miss the discussion this afternoon. But she had a number of interesting observations from her independent side trip that should make that dour young Vulcan sit up and take notice. Perhaps she could go back with a rope or borrow a jet pack to retrieve her tricorder with the recordings she had made.   
    What now? The dark green ridges stretched out in front of her until they met the high grey peaks of the bigger mountains. Her field of view was not wide, since the trees blocked her vision to the west and south. At least, she was fairly sure that was west. She should have paid a little more attention in the survival skills seminar they had had last quarter. Investigating in the field, as she would have to do as a starship Science Officer, was very different from dissecting lab specimens and studying holographic samples. Hiking the woods was a little new to her; her athletic endeavors had been mostly on the track and playing field until now. Her parents had taken her on camping trips until she had been old enough to refuse to go; she infinitely preferred a well-regulated environment to a wild one. Still, she had started out with all the equipment she would need to have for a day excursion—in her lost pack.   
    Well, she couldn't stand all day on this hot ridgetop. Pick a direction, Kathryn. She plunged down the slope to the east, intending to follow the valleys down to the lake. Surely she could get back before dark.   
    It took her a good hour to descend to the bottom of the long, rough slope. She had to zigzag around steep rocky areas and dense stands of trees, moving in an erratic line to the north. By the time she stood by the tiny trickling stream under the deep shade of giant sugar pines, she was not sure where she was in relation to her observation from the top. Well, if she followed the stream, obviously it would lead to the lake. She set off through the undergrowth, checking for poison oak.   
    Another two hours elapsed while she struggled through the roughest terrain yet. Her clothes were ripped in spots, her face was scratched, and she acquired a marvelous set of bruises from a fall off a big mossy boulder. The stream had swept up enormous logs in the winter's rainy torrents and deposited them all along the bed. Each of these, resting on nearly vertical ravine walls and giant chunks of granite, had to be separately hurdled. Kathryn had to rest often and made slow progress.   
    Probably between 1800 and 1900 hours now. Hungry from her exertions, she opened an energy bar and downed it in two bites. She took a long swallow from the canteen and felt better. How close was she to the lake? There was no way to tell; the steep walls rose all around her and cut off all but a narrow wedge of sunlight. She could hear nothing but the trickle of the stream and the crackle of branches as the squirrels leaped and chattered. Nowhere to go but onward. She got up and continued down the valley.   
    Kathryn rounded a bend in the stream and stopped dead. Well, it was about time she saw some sign of human activity. A narrow board footbridge crossed the stream about a hundred meters ahead. It connected trails on each side of the ravine that wound up the mountainsides in long switchbacks. She could see only the first bend of each switchback, as the trees were too thick and the sunlight did not penetrate down to the stream where she stood.   
    She clambered up the bank to the bridge and stood on it for a moment, realizing that she had gradually moved towards a feeling of isolation and loneliness on her long expedition. Until she saw the trail, she had not realized how much she had wished to find something, someone, anything to lead her back home. Now that she had a guide, and the going would be much easier, her sense of relief at not having to depend entirely on herself was embarrassingly strong.   
    All right, now, which way? The stream had taken many turns and meanders, and the trail lay perpendicular to it. Which direction would take her to the lake, and which deeper into the wilderness? There were no trail signs, since there was no fork; only two choices. She took the left, as it seemed to tend to the east. In any case, this was a sign of civilization. If she stayed on the beaten path, she might even meet someone. There were a number of lodges and campgrounds in the mountains and along the lake shore besides the one used by the Academy.   
    Up the winding trail she doggedly climbed, coating her damp boots in fine dust. She felt a resurgence of confidence at the ease of travel compared to the rough slopes and stream bed.   
    Slowly the light grew more golden, the air cooler. 2000 hours or so. She had missed dinner now and they would all be worried about her. Sarpak would be informing the professor, and the professor would be calling the director of the lodge, and—oh no! her parents—and they would be talking about search parties—how embarrassing! When she walked into the courtyard, they were going to make such a fuss.   
    Cadet Janeway reached the top of the ridge and looked around hopefully for a sunset reflection off a huge oval lake. What she could see through the trees told her only of more trees, more ridges, more great granite monoliths transforming to bronze with the late sunlight's alchemy. She was facing southeast along the general direction of the trail, which seemed right. There was still a long time before the light would go entirely, and the trail would not be too hard to follow even in the dark. The moon was nearly full and would light her way.   
    She had barely started down the other side of the ridge when she heard a faint, slow jingling that brought every hair on her body erect. Someone was coming up the trail towards her. Again she was surprised at the rush of relief. Someone to tell her where she was, which way she was going, and how to get to her destination. And maybe even give her something to eat for dinner besides one energy bar. Her stomach growled and she sat down to wait for the traveler.   
    The rhythmic jingling halted. Kathryn's ears pricked up to listen, but only the evening winds sighed in the trees. The sun sank lower behind her and the granite took on the hue of copper. Huge and yellow on its first rising, the moon floated one edge above the peaks.   
    Silence.   
    She began to wonder if she had imagined the sound or twisted some bird song into a human echo. The mountains began to deepen in color.   
    If she was going to get off this high spot before dark, she had better do it now. The wind was beginning to pick up and she shivered in her thin shirt. The big fireplace at the lodge sounded very welcome at this moment. Kathryn slid off the rock on which she sat and started down the trail again.   
    A long switchback curved down into the trees, where the light was now very dim. She could see down the trail where the branches parted slightly above the cleared path, but the gloom of the forest itself closed in on both sides. The primal human fear of the dark and of isolation slowed her steps for a moment, but she chided herself fiercely. She intended to be a starship captain; who went so far into the outer darkness, so far away from the community of life as they did? How could she be afraid of a little mountain trail?   
    By the time the rider came around the bend, she was striding as confidently as anyone could in the barely adequate illumination. Her own footfalls drowned out the sound of his approach until he appeared not twenty meters in front of her at the turn of the switchback.   
    "Good evening," he said cheerfully.   
    Kathryn was so surprised at the sudden sight that she merely nodded and continued on her way down the trail. The rider and horse came into clearer focus as she approached them. The man was no more than medium height, slender and athletic- looking. He rode a fine bay mare with white socks on the forefeet and a Western rigged saddle, although he himself was dressed in a tweed jacket and jodhpurs.   
    "Magnificent sunset just now," he said as she came up to him. His accent was British, but with a lyrical undertone that gave it greater musicality than the usual clipped syllables of an Englishman. "I was watching it for quite a while down the trail a few hundred meters or so. The color will all be gone when you get to the viewpoint, I'm afraid."   
    "Oh," was all she could think of to say. She looked up into his face and saw a pleasant smile under a big, well-shaped nose and eyes that nearly disappeared into deep sockets. He looked about thirty-five, but could have been somewhat younger or older. The bones of his almost- gaunt face were prominent and striking in the shadowy light.   
    When Kathryn did not respond further, he bowed slightly and continued up the trail. She stood irresolute for a moment, debating whether to call to him and ask for help, or continue down the slope into the growing darkness. What if the lake was just over the next ridge? She would look silly and helpless.   
    The decision was taken out of her hands when the rider reined in and turned again to her.   
    "Excuse me, Ms, but is there a campground nearby? I don't wish to intrude on your privacy (he pronounced it with a short "i") but I suppose I should stop soon for the night, as it will be dark in half an hour."   
    "I—I don't know," Kathryn replied truthfully.   
    "Ah, you are camped on your own? I will retire to a discreet distance, then," he said with a twinkle.   
    "I'm not camped at all. I'm trying to get back to the lodge," she blurted out. There, she had admitted it: she was lost.   
    "The lodge? I thought there were none in twenty kilometers," he replied in puzzlement.   
    "That far?" she whispered in disbelief. That would take all night and half the morning. How had she come so far out of her way? She glanced down the trail again.   
    "There are certainly none in that direction," he said with a question in his voice.   
    Kathryn could not answer. She felt on the verge of tears and absolutely refused to indulge in front of a stranger, even a kind one.   
    He seemed to understand her need for dignity and said mildly, "Ah, I've taken a good many wrong turns myself the last few days. If the horse didn't know the territory, I have no doubt I'd be heels up in a ditch by now."   
    Kathryn chuckled gratefully.   
    "May I be of any assistance to you, Ms—?"   
    "Janeway. Kathryn Janeway."   
    "I am Jean-Luc Picard, at your service, Ms Janeway. As I say, I am merely looking for a good spot to camp before I stop for the night. May I invite you to join me?"   
    The words were innocent and friendly, the speaker sincere, but the implications suddenly hit her. Alone, no one else for kilometers around, with a man she had never seen before he came up the trail. She had literally never spent a night alone with any man outside her family.   
    Picard saw her hesitate and did not wonder why. She didn't know him, and he would have to be careful not to frighten her, but she had no gear or even a hand light and he could not just leave her in the trail. At first, he had assumed she was staying in the area and was out for an evening stroll; he had spoken to her because he had enjoyed the lovely sunset and wanted to share it with someone.   
    There had been enough light to see that the reddish tint of her hair was not all from the hue of the sky. He had a soft spot for women with long red hair. He judged her to be about twenty-seven or eight; her stride had the confidence and her face the character that age would be beginning to assert. Her erect posture and open, level gaze spoke of independence and self-reliance, perhaps to a fault—she had apparently bitten off more than she could chew in her choice of a hike. Dust, sweat, fatigue and tattered clothing notwithstanding, he could see that her figure was firm and muscular, her lines gently curvaceous.   
    All in all, a very appealing young woman, and obviously in need of help, even if she didn't want to admit it. He would have to suppress the attraction, unfortunately. The situation was not conducive to any kind of amorous interest on his part. Perhaps once they reached civilization...but of course, his leave was over in a few days, and that was not much time to develop an acquaintance to the point of—   
    Scratch that thought, he told himself. You want to help her, and she has to trust you in order for you to do so. If she picks up on anything like what just crossed your mind, she will be tense and defensive even if she accepts.   
    "I'm afraid I have been camping for some days now, and so have only freeze-dried spaghetti and similar monstrosities to offer you—"   
    "That sounds a lot better than going hungry," Kathryn replied with decision. Picard smiled and dismounted as she came up to him. His small stature put his eyes not too far above a level with hers.   
    "Please, take my horse. I am sure we won't need to go far, but you look as if you have walked a good distance." His deep-set eyes—grey? hazel? it was too dark to tell now—glanced over her torn clothing, carefully avoiding any symbolically loaded parts of her body.  
    "I've never ridden a horse," she confessed.   
    "Ah. Well, this sort of saddle makes it no trick at all. It's rather like sitting in a high-backed chair. I feel quite lazy, although I've been out for the better part of a week." He held out both hands cupped together at the level of the horse's knee for her to step in and mount.   
    "That's it. She's a strong little filly," he said as she swung into the saddle. "I shall be quite sorry to see the last of her tomorrow."   
    For a fraction of a second Kathryn thought he was referring to her. "Oh, this is not your horse?"   
    "Sadly, no. I haven't owned a horse in years. A career in Starfleet doesn't really allow for such luxuries—but I shall certainly create a version of her for the holodeck. She has given me a memorably pleasant trip."   
    "Starfleet? You're a Starfleet officer?" Cadet Janeway lit up.   
    "Yes, I am a lieutenant commander—but if you promise not to tell anyone, I can say with confidence that I will take a step up very shortly," he smiled. Picard had noticed her interest spark at the mention of Starfleet and allowed himself to hope for a moment that she would herself take the initiative in the matter of—  
    Stop that, he told himself. Anyone would think you had not learned a thing over the past fifteen years. Reckless behavior, wild oats and such are all very well in the Academy, but a commanding officer needs self- discipline. Kindly restrict yourself to thoughts of food and fire.   
    The mare chose that moment to step in a ground squirrel burrow and lurch suddenly to the side.   
    Kathryn seized the saddle horn in both hands and managed not to fall off entirely, but slid halfway out of the saddle to the side on which the lieutenant commander walked as he led the mare by the bridle. She had barely registered his name, something French, before he had made the suggestion that they camp together; the fact that he was in Starfleet had made much more impression on her. He caught her by the waist and knee, supporting her and giving her a boost back into the seat.   
    "Just a moment," he said, once she was secure again. He bent down and checked the mare's leg, feeling carefully for any sign of a sprain. When he was satisfied the animal was unhurt, he said, "Front or back?"   
    "Excuse me?"   
    "I think that we shall have to ride double to keep you safely seated. Would you prefer to sit in front of me or behind me?"   
    Kathryn felt her face flush as red as the last glow of the sun. Was he actually making a pass at her? She glanced warily down at him, but saw no sign of ulterior motives in his expression. If he had been ten years younger, she would have suspected him of anything, but his receding hairline gave him an air of middle-aged respectability. And after all, he was a Starfleet officer, a high-ranking one. It occurred to her that she should have stood at attention and introduced herself as an Academy cadet, but she felt a little ashamed to admit that even a first-year cadet could be so utterly turned around.   
    "Um—whatever works best," she replied in answer to his query. "I really don't know much about riding."   
    "In back, I think. You can hold on to me and be quite secure that way. Just sit as far back in the saddle as you can—"   
    He put his foot in the stirrup to mount, and she trembled suddenly all over at the thought of his slender body pressed close against her. Half fear of the unknown, half longing for the unknown. He had not struck her as dangerous, or even particularly attractive, but he was a man and a stranger.   
    "Perhaps I'll just get off and walk," she said, and began to slide down the opposite side of the mare.   
    "Ah—don't do that," he said and caught her arm. "A horse is trained to be mounted and dismounted from only one side. She may shy if you try it any other way. Sensitive creatures, horses."   
    He let go of her arm as soon as she returned to the saddle, but she felt the contact all up and down from shoulder to fingertips. This was getting a little weird. Kathryn made to get off on the side he stood on, and he held out a hand for her to take.   
    "Are you sure?" he asked with some concern. "You look very tired and footsore. I certainly cannot ride while you walk."   
    His melodious voice and gentlemanly manner checked her in action. Her feet did ache, and the bruises and scrapes on her side were stiffening up. The mare's rolling walk was soothing. Was it really so disturbing to think of leaning against a kind stranger's back for a little while?   
    "All right," she said, and scooted back in the saddle.   
    The lieutenant commander mounted easily, swinging his lean leg over the mare's neck, and settled down in front of her.   
    "Put your arms around my waist, if you will, Ms Janeway," he directed. She leaned forward and did so, a little tense, trying not to touch him any more than necessary. Her hands clasped each other and she held her arms in a stiff circle to avoid an embrace.   
    Picard felt her tension and tried to empty his mind of any impure thoughts. She had a right to be apprehensive, poor woman. He would not have liked to have been in her position, having to put her trust in a strange man so far from any other possible assistance. At least he knew he was trustworthy. She had nothing to fear from him at all.   
    The bay mare ambled gently up the slope, passing the rock where she had waited after hearing the clink of the bridle on the trail below.   
    "Ah, you came this way, of course, Ms Janeway. Did you happen to spy out any pleasant camping spots?" he asked.   
    "I wasn't really looking for any, just trying to get back before dark," Kathryn replied. She laughed a little shamefacedly. "I had no idea I was so far from the lodge."   
    "Well, we shall get you back to it tomorrow without fail. Which one do you come from, by the way?"   
    "The Stargazer."   
    "The Starfleet lodge?" His voice was animated. "What a pleasant surprise. You must have arrived after I departed on my ride last week."   
    "Yes, the class just got in last night."   
    "Oh, you are affiliated with the Academy?" So Ms Kathryn Janeway is an instructor or assistant, then, he thought with a little twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps he might see something of her in future after all. "What is your field?"   
    "Sciences—biology at the moment."   
    "A field trip? I remember taking those myself as a cadet," he said with a chuckle. "Those really were more valuable for social interaction than research, as I recall."   
    "Yes..." She did not want to say too much to him; the sound of his voice was very pleasant and she did not want to interrupt for any length of time.   
    "Have you seen the tables in the dining hall?"   
    "With all the names carved on them?"   
    "Yes—some of those are quite old. I found my own name still there after some searching. It's traditional not to scratch out anyone's graffiti with your own. Even the undersides of some tables are well inscribed. You must be sure to leave your mark before you go."   
    "I will," she said, and meant it.   
    They rode on in silence for a while, descending the slope the way she had come. Rocking slowly from side to side, the mare carried them easily, picking her steps carefully around the rocks and occasional branches in the trail. A subtle radiance still hung in the western sky and the moon was rising.   
    Kathryn let her arms relax slightly around the officer's slim waist. His tweed coat was a little prickly through her shirt. Warmth from his body seeped through her and eased the growing chill of the night air. He smelled of horse, unsurprisingly, and of himself, and of the redolent woods. Lullingly smooth, the ride soothed her tight nerves and began to untangle her complicated emotional web of embarrassment, fatigue, hunger, and suspicion. Her cheek touched the officer's shoulder, rested lightly for a moment, then she let her face fall against him and closed her eyes.   
    Picard felt the soft contact and leaned back a fraction to support her. Was she falling asleep? She must have walked a considerable distance this day to be so far from the lake. He did not expect to arrive at the lodge until after mid-morning tomorrow, even on horseback.   
    "Ah, this looks promising," he said softly. Kathryn's head jerked up, but he was turning off the trail into a little side path barely visible in the gloom. "I believe there have been others here before us...there are usually some indications of the best places to stop."   
    They moved through a dense stand of trees, crouching to avoid low branches. When the vista opened out, Kathryn peered around the officer's shoulder and smiled.   
    What a beautiful place! It was a little mountain park, an open meadow nestled in a valley. It had once been a lake, which had gradually filled with sediment and vegetation until it became a flat, grassy, flower-strewn expanse. The delicate afterglow of the vanished sun still touched it faintly; the sunset seemed to take forever to run its course. Long rippling curves of the surrounding ridges stood out as dark shapes against the deep-blue sky.   
    "Eminently satisfactory," said the officer with pleasure in his voice.   
    "Yes, it's lovely," she replied, then straightened up to keep herself from touching his back. She had brushed his side with her left breast when she leaned around him to see, and had kept it pressed there a moment before she realized what she was doing. Well, he didn't show any signs of having noticed; she was making a big deal over nothing. A middle-aged man like that probably wasn't even thinking of her that way, anyway. She was only a kid to him, and he wasn't boiling with underused urges like her classmates. Gee, he could almost be her father.   
    The thought relaxed her suddenly. What was she so worried about, anyway? He hadn't done anything suspicious, and he didn't deserve to be treated like a snake in the woodpile. Everything about him said "trustworthy". No one could maintain a low opinion of him for very long. Yes, he was definitely a Starfleet officer, if she had doubted his word at all.   
    Picard picked a corner of the meadow just under the shelter of the trees to dismount and hand Kathryn down from the mare's back. A little stream wound through the meadow, and he could hear the soft babbling in the gloom. Taking off the mare's saddle and bridle, he slapped her on the rump and let her amble out into the knee-high grass. He had no fear that she would wander far; she was too well-trained for that. If only he could keep her somehow. She was by far the best mount he had had in years. But he had his Starfleet career, and a captaincy shining brightly in his future, and no female of any species would distract him from that goal.   
    Jenice...still waiting in Paris, in his last mental image of her. Here and now, Jean-Luc, here and now.   
    Picard looked at his companion, who had plopped down on the grass and was leaning back on her hands, gazing up at the emerging stars. Her look was yearning, but confident, as if she surveyed territory rightfully her own, some precious jewel she would inevitably inherit. Ms Janeway must be a very fine instructor for the Academy, but it's plain to see she longs to travel on a starship, he thought. The open expression on her face made her seem very young.   
    He unpacked his saddlebags quietly, not wishing to disturb her ruminations. After a few minutes, she leaned forward and clasped her drawn-up knees, resting her chin between them. She ran one hand over the stalks and flowers in her reach, softly naming them in Latin as she touched each one. A studious young woman, obviously. Her long fingers scratched idly at the nape of her neck, then she began to pull the pins that held her hair in a tight knot (somewhat disarranged with her travels). The soft tresses fell one by one down her back with the faintest of liquid sounds until her shoulders were draped with the silken cape.   
    Picard grew aware that he had ceased all movement soon after she had pulled the first pin. He set down the camp stove he had suspended in midair and rummaged through his remaining store of food packs for the least objectionable selection.   
    Kathryn ran her fingers through her hair and rubbed her scalp where the knot had rested. She always took her hair down in the evening to relax when she no longer had to keep up a brisk, professional appearance. Even though she was only a first-year cadet, she tried to look like an officer in every way that she could, at least during the day. She had considered cutting her long hair, but enjoyed the feeling of release and the dramatic change in her appearance when the chestnut waves fell about her face. Even a Starfleet officer needed a softer side, she reasoned. Femininity and duty were certainly not mutually exclusive.   
    She turned to see what the officer was doing, and was surprised to find that he was already cooking dinner and rolling out a groundcloth.   
    "Um—can I do anything?" she asked.   
    "Not a thing, Ms Janeway; you are my guest this evening." He lit a small lantern and smiled at her in the soft glow. In a few minutes, he dished out the contents of the pot into two plates and handed one to her. "I must warn you, Ms Janeway, that for a native of France, I am a very poor cook."   
    The aroma of the food was perfectly wholesome, and she was ravenous; she had finished the entire dish almost before he could heat some water for tea. They sipped at hot mugs slowly, warming their hands as the temperature dropped. Kathryn shivered a little, raising her shoulders and hugging her elbows into her body.   
    "How remiss of me," the officer said. He rose and looked in a saddlebag, handing her a long insulated raincoat. "This should keep you quite toasty." He held it as she slipped her arms through the sleeves, and lifted her hair clear of the collar. She thought she felt his hand brush down over it in a smoothing motion, but the touch was so gentle she was not sure.   
    Turning to retrieve her mug, Kathryn was a little surprised to see the officer standing very still, his eyebrows slightly lowered and his expression oddly tight. His thin lips had drawn into a straight line, but twitched as his eyes met hers. Fleetingly intense, his gaze dropped quickly, and he turned away.   
    What the heck was that? she wondered. She hugged the coat around her. Maybe he was just thinking about something. He was rummaging in his bags again, bringing out a hand light and a padd. "The stars will be well out in a few minutes," he said. "The full moon will obscure the seeing somewhat, but every night on a mountain is an opportunity that should not be lost." Punching up a sky map on the padd, he doused the lantern and handed her the light.   
    "Lead the way, if you would, Ms Janeway, and we shall see how many of the systems I have visited are visible tonight," his voice came in the darkness. Something about the quality of it sent a little quiver down her back, a pleasant one. She snapped the light on and aimed it out into the meadow.   
    They had to cross the stream to reach the center of the grassy area, where they would have the greatest field of view. The officer took her hand to help her step across the water, although it was barely a meter wide. When he retained her fingers in his a few moments longer than necessary, she began to wonder: was he actually trying to convey something to her? If so, he was being very subtle about it. She was used to the obvious ploys of teenagers, the shy, sweaty hands, the bear hugs and eager kisses. Nothing in her experience had ever gone much beyond that. But this was a grown man. What, exactly, did he want from an eighteen-year-old?   
    Probably nothing at all. He was just being polite, at which he was unsurpassed. Rarely had she met anyone with such finely polished manners. His very presence was soothing; she could imagine a tense room relaxing just from his entrance and the sound of his voice.   
    "This looks like a good place," she said when she could see most of the sky. She turned the light off and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moon hung bright in the east, but most of the sky was dark enough at this altitude to see thousands of glittering points.   
    "I have seen extraordinary fields of stars all over the quadrant," he said quietly, "but this familiar arrangement, the one our ancestors saw, is still the most inspiring."   
    "Yes," she replied, pleased that he echoed her own thoughts. "This is why humans went into space in the first place. This is why I always wanted to be a starship officer."   
    "Indeed? A science officer?"   
    "For starters," she laughed. "I'm going to be a captain someday. I'm going to lead my own crew in the best research vessel in the fleet." Kathryn gestured to the great triangle of Altair, Deneb and Vega, her voice utterly confident. "That's where I belong. That's where I'm going to leave my mark, out there."   
    Picard heard the ring of conviction in her words and believed in her determination, but wondered if she knew the obstacles in her path. An Academy instructor? If she did not yet have a commission and a starship posting, her goal could be a very distant one. But she had the ambition to achieve it in sufficient measure. Perhaps he was too pessimistic on her account. He muttered half to himself,

    "By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap   
    To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,   
    Or dive into the bottom of the deep,   
    Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,   
    And pluck up drowned honor by the locks."

    "That's right," she said. "I liked that character—what's his name."  
    "Hotspur," Picard replied. "He does come to a sticky end, you know."   
    "Yeah, well—that sounded very nice, anyway. You must like Shakespeare."   
    "That might be considered an understatement, Ms Janeway," he chuckled.   
    "Call me Kathryn, OK?" she said on impulse. He was so formal and correct, and she felt like hearing him speak her first name. He did not answer for a moment, and she almost wondered if she had crossed an invisible line.   
    His voice, when it came out of the gloom, was like a caress.   
    "Certainly I shall, if you wish it...Kathryn. You may call me Jean-Luc, if you are so inclined."   
    "All right...um, Jean-Luc." She couldn't remember his last name, and was about to ask when he pointed at the sky.   
    "There...near the Corona Borealis. I went on board my first Klingon ship there..."   
    He told her wonderful stories for at least an hour, while Spica set in the west and the moon climbed high. Kathryn laughed when he described his first taste of gagh worms, listened raptly to an account of a delicate negotiation that had averted a intraspecies war, and gasped in sympathy when he mentioned in passing a terrible wound that had left him with an artificial heart.   
    In all this talk, however, she gradually grew aware that he held himself aloof from her. He never mentioned his own feelings about anything, except for superficial reactions, and told her nothing of his own hopes and inmost dreams. A thin, steely shell seemed to cover him like a suit of armor. For all his charm and skill as a raconteur, he was elusive, private, impenetrable.   
    The beauty of the meadow, the wonder of the sky, that showed her more and more as her eyes slowly gained night vision, suffused her like wine. Moonlight shone clearly on the officer's face as they sat side by side in the grass, casting his elegant features in striking relief and glinting in his deep-set eyes. He was—well, actually, rather handsome, with a noble cranium that might look all the better when he lost more hair, and that voice—it was warm and smooth and strong and thrilling all at once. A muted trumpet, a glass of cognac with honey, a king's velvet robe.   
    Kathryn stared at him and wondered: what would break that reserve? What would get under that steely skin to the man beneath? What might she find there? Would she even want to know?   
    He turned slightly and looked at her. She was caught off guard, her stare open and obvious in the bright moonlight. 

    "I am he that walks with the tender and growing night,   
    I call to the earth and sea half-held by the night.   
    Press close bare-bosomed night—press close magnetic nourishing night!   
    Night of south winds—night of the large few stars!   
    Still nodding night—mad naked summer night."

    His voice ceased for a moment, then he resumed, "An American poet, perhaps more suitable to the setting."   
    Kathryn was trembling visibly, her breasts heaving with her uneven breaths. She dipped her chin into her chest, trying to control the shaking, but she could not look away.   
    "I place myself at your disposal, Kathryn," he gently said, and left his gaze on hers.   
    Now that...was...an unmistakable...pass. At least from him, it was unmistakable. How incredibly restrained the man was! Still, the mere knowledge that he...wanted her, that he was willing to open a tiny crack in the shell, perhaps, moved a new ripple of shuddering warmth through her chest and stomach. He really—? With her—? An almost-commander was interested in her? Kathryn felt a little dizzy.   
    She moved forward, into the circle of his arms. They closed and drew her in, one hand at her waist, the other sliding around her back and cupping her shoulder. Instinctively she kept her head ducked, and her forehead collided with his chest. He bent his head down, caught her lips with his own, and pressed her up and back. His hand came up from her shoulder to cradle her skull, lolling back on her suddenly limp neck.   
    Picard kissed her more masterfully than he had intended, reacting strongly to her sweet scent and trembling approach. Careful now, he thought. It wouldn't do to frighten her again, not after such a pleasant conversation and its unexpectedly welcome outcome.   
    After a moment, however, her hands shifted from pushing against his chest to slipping around his body. She returned his kiss as firmly as it had been given, and embraced him hard. A woman of some passion, obviously. Well, all the better. He did not particularly relish taking the lead in such matters, preferring to let himself be pursued, holding out the promise of intimacy and then withdrawing in himself whenever a woman came too close...   
    Kathryn was breathing deeply, drinking from his lips, kneading the muscles of his back and shoulders with her strong hands. She could sense that he was holding back, perhaps out of consideration for her youth, but she didn't want him to. She wanted him to meet her, passion for passion, two equal measures of wanting. Two souls in communion, standing together against all threats, comrades flying together to the stars... A Starfleet commander, and a future Starfleet captain— what better mates? Kathryn relaxed into the grass, pulling him down with her. He rose up for a moment to pull his jacket off and toss it aside.   
    He was about to lower himself beside her when a shrill buzz startled them both.   
    "Emergency broadcast to all Starfleet personnel in Tahoe Park area," said a voice.   
    "Good heavens," said the officer, and picked up his jacket and comm badge again.   
    "Missing person alert," the broadcast continued. "Starfleet Academy cadet Kathryn Janeway, last seen at 1300 hours on Long Ridge loop trail. Human female, eighteen years old, one hundred sixty-eight centimeters tall, weighing fifty kilograms. Light reddish brown hair, blue eyes, fair complexion. Wearing..."   
    The officer had frozen still, his face turned away from her, after the first few words. He put his jacket down slowly and with deliberation, keeping one hand on the badge. Kathryn could see his jaw muscles clench.   
    "Please respond if sighted. Emergency broadcast concludes."   
    He remained still for the space of two breaths, then stabbed a thumb at the badge.   
    "This is Lieutenant Commander Jean-Luc Picard. Cadet Janeway is with me, and...safe. I expect to arrive at the Stargazer Lodge before 1100 tomorrow. Picard out." His voice betrayed nothing. A moment passed, and another voice broke in, asking for confirmation. He gave it, reassuring her worried professor that Cadet Janeway was well and uninjured. The transmission ceased.   
    She could tell that he was very angry. The slope of his shoulders had changed, hardened to a tense straight line. Sitting with his back to her, he darted a glance to the sky, then to the earth, turning his head and looking at the ground next to her.   
    "And when," he bit out, "were you going to tell me I was placing my entire—career—in jeopardy—by seducing—an eighteen-year-old—Academy—cadet?"   
    His voice was all steely trumpet now.   
    Kathryn Janeway sat up and yanked her hair back in one fist. "Seducing, hell. I was with you all the way. Sir."   
    "Excuse me, Cadet?"   
    "I said, I was with you all the way, sir. Leading, even." What a cold-hearted bastard he was. After she had kissed him like that?  
    "I doubt that the board of inquiry would take that into serious consideration, Cadet Janeway."   
    "Why not? Am I unable to make my own decisions, sir? Am I a child? You didn't think so a few minutes ago."   
    He let out a short harsh breath. "I took you for a woman ten years older, Cadet."   
    "I'm sorry, I guess I should have told you I was a student. But I thought you knew, sir."   
    "I made an assumption based on your—your manner and bearing, Cadet."   
    She knew he was referring to her air of confidence and self- command, which had accompanied her from infancy. "That's just me, sir. That's the way I am. If you didn't expect that from someone my age...well, neither do a lot of people. They'll learn."   
    He finally turned to look at her. Unsmiling, but with a speculative frown that told her he had not really taken her spoken ambitions seriously until now.   
    "And what did you expect to accomplish with this— this—"   
    "Oh, now I'm seducing you, huh? Sir."   
    His eyes dropped for a moment. "I beg your pardon. That was an unworthy thought."   
    "I'll say it was, sir. But..."   
    "Yes, Cadet?"   
    "I'm going to be a Starfleet captain. I'm not going to be a lonely one."   
    Kathryn saw his eyes turn inwards, shutting her out. Like me, you mean, she could almost hear him say.   
    "You will learn, Cadet, it is to be hoped with less pain then I, that a committed relationship and a command career are mutually exclusive."   
    Whose pain? she wanted to ask. Do you really suffer any pain? Can that hunk of plastic and metal in your chest break in two?   
    Then he looked up at her again, and the shell cracked, just for a moment.   
     Oh, Lord. He let her in for the tiniest of glimpses before the steel fused seamless again. She felt her eyes fill with tears.   
    Kathryn swallowed hard to keep her voice steady before she spoke again.   
    "All right, Commander, maybe they are for you. But don't project that on to me. I have no intention of giving up half myself and locking it away. Why would I send a mutilated version of myself out into the galaxy? Where would the joy be? Where would be my whole reason for living among the stars?   
    "I'm not judging you. You've made the decisions for your life as you saw fit. But you haven't succeeded in cutting off that part of yourself, you know. It's still there. It's forgotten, and stunted, and starving for light down in that little room you've locked it in, but it's still there."   
    "I know," he said, and his eyes were barred windows.   
    "I don't know if anyone can bring it out for you. That's a decision you will have to make yourself, if you're capable of it anymore. I can't show you the way, because I don't know how you got lost in the first place. I don't intend to get lost at all."   
    She stood up and gave him her hand. He took it and rose to his feet.   
    "Cadet Janeway."   
    "Yes, sir."   
    "It is correct protocol to say, 'Permission to speak freely,' before addressing a superior officer in that manner."   
    "Yes, sir," she replied with an old- fashioned salute, and was answered with the faintest of smiles. He glanced in the direction of their campsite.   
    "The night is cold, Cadet, and I have only one set of blankets. Would you be willing to share them with me?"   
    "Doesn't seem to be an alternative, sir— but if you can stand it, so can I." He set his lips and gave her a quick affirmative nod of the chin.   
    "All right, then. Let's go to bed." She snapped the hand light on and aimed the bright beam to illuminate their path. 

  
"Oh, weren't you _scared?"_   
    "Not really," Kathryn replied, downing another forkful of steak and Bearnaise sauce. "I thought I was going the right way most of the time." Her friends crowded around her at the table, eating, studying tricorder readings, and listening to her account of the previous day's events.   
    "Who was that officer who brought you in?"   
    "Lieutenant Commander...um." Sheesh, she had forgotten his name again. "Something French. Jean-Luc something."   
    "Ooh, Zzhonn-Loooc," giggled several of her girlfriends.   
    "He was kinda cute," said one.   
    "Yeah, kinda. Not my type," she said, chewing, and dipping up more Bearnaise on the point of her steak knife.   
    "Cadet Janeway," said a level voice at her elbow. She looked up to see Sarpak glowering down at her, as much as a Vulcan could glower. Very controlled, Vulcans were. Very restrained. But they had a sense of propriety and moral compass that served them very well.   
    "What is it, Sarpak?"   
    "I have reviewed the readings on your tricorder. It seems to have been undamaged in the fall."   
    "Oh, good. So—what didja think?"   
    "As you thought, you recorded a species of algae that has not been previously detected in this area."   
    Kathryn whooped and high-fived several classmates.   
    "However..." It was a loaded word.   
    "However what?"   
    "You obtained those readings by disregarding instructions, placing yourself in danger, and causing a great deal of distress and inconvenience to your superiors."   
    "Aw, gee, Sarpak—"   
    "Yes, Cadet?"   
    "Does that mean you're not going to give me extra credit?" she grinned.   
    Sarpak actually rolled his eyes before departing.   
    Kathryn finished her dinner and toyed with her knife, scratching at the table. It was already heavily engraved with names, some fresh and light-colored, some worn smooth at the edges and darkened with the years.   
    Decker, Uhura, Crusher. Dehner, Pulaski, M'Benga. Finnegan, Chakotay, Garrett.   
    She found a flat, smooth spot, and began to carve.

END


End file.
